


Champagne

by orphan_account



Category: American Horror Story: Hotel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5156786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I fell off my pink cloud with a thud." (aka a short study of liz's character.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne

A morose creature with long, slender arms leans against the bar, a chalice as crystalline as her eyes dangling between her manicured fingers. You are summoned closer by something unheard and unseen. 

There is a noise that surrounds her, something like quiet chatter and the soft horns of Old Hollywood, her diamond earrings dangling softly in a dead silent room. 

She whispers in your ear something of sorrow and suddenly, you are gasping for breath, writhing in silky sheets with her. 

You tell her you can give her the world. She says it's much too late for that. 

The room smells of tuberose and smoke and you want to suffocate in it. Your heart aches in your chest as she looms over you, full lips parted, vixenish green eyes downcast, examining you. "Tell me," she croons through her teeth. "–what makes you cry?" 

Saliva catches in your throat as she digs her fingernails into your cheek. You cannot scream, and as you glance up at her, silently begging for clemency, you notice her makeup forming murky trails down her face. You want to wipe her tears away, but as you move to lift a hand, you find that you absolutely cannot move. 

The pleasure is enough to push you over the edge but it pains you to think so, and you beg her for release, for anything else she can give you. She presses a gentle finger against your lips, and your chest heaves. Surely, this must be death. But you love it, because it's her.

A woman you met less than an hour ago. You made love to her in a state of delirium and you tasted her tears. 

And as you take your last breath, you feel yourself fold inward like some sort of macabre morning glory, and she strokes your cheek softly. All is still.


End file.
